Tag Archives: hopelessness

My fellow citizens, you probably can’t read this because you are in the dark of your Brooklyn boudoir, scraping the scum of the Gowanus Canal from your floor with a toy shovel that blew in from Rockaway. Fear not, for it will likely freeze soon!

We managed to stop those scrawny Eritreans from running through the ravaged city so our police can concentrate on things that really matter, stopping apoplectic jagoffs from throttling each other at the Sunoco. But it looks like we won’t stop the election. After all, this isn’t Ohio!

I am sure you will all agree that Everything Sucks. Even if you are not trapped under a fallen tree, you probably don’t have a job. And if you do have a job, you probably spend your days wishing a tree would fall on you. Well, Mitt Romney has your solution. You have been so short sighted- Life could be a whole lot worse! Once Mitt is in charge there will be rapery all around, and no more of your fun time, lazy Sunday abortions. Health insurance and retirement benefits will only be available via the dice table at Monte Carlo. But don’t worry, you will still get a tax break for being beautiful. Me, I will be disappointed if I am not personally raped by Mitt Romney himself. But those are the kind of high expectations that have been mostly dashed in this hopeless economy.

In sum, please take your heads out of the ovens and vote for Brock Omama. You probably don’t have gas, anyway.

New York shouted a collective “hurray” for human rights and put on its best Sunday chaps. Of course, sale I feel personally responsible for making the whole thing come about. After all, seewe instituted F@g Day on June 14th. Then I gave $20 to a young man in the park collecting funds to bring about the vote, patient in order to do penance for using the word “F@g”. At least I think he was collecting funds to bring about the vote. He had a clipboard. Personal responsibility is what really rings the changes. Plus I am a sucker for a clipboard.

After such a great labor of activism, I felt I had a right to be proud. And I, too, suffer for the cause. I had a date with a very attractive lady last week and she canceled, due to a cold. I had to attend several art openings all by myself. I was even invited to a fete! If you do not bring a date to a fete, surely there are negative social consequences. Alas, you cannot tell the sufferings of others until you have tried walking a mile in their highly stylish footwear. So it has been quite the emotional whirlybird. And here I would like to put in a good word for Everest Hall, painter and all around fancy gentleman.

His show is at DCKT through July 23rd.

Not really being a parade person, I celebrated pride by going to see Midnight in Paris and ogling Marion Cotillard. One other thing that I will say about this very special film, is that finally I have found an antidote to the hopeless feelings I have attached to the pursuit of an art career ever since watching “the Extras”. Really.

Anyway, we are done feeling proud and can heartily return to our bitter march toward oblivion, hastened by the guilt and self-recrimination that so becomes us. Or perhaps I should go home and watch Cabaret again. Tomorrow belongs to ME.